


Speak Low if You Speak Love

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [47]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: Angst, Arguments, F/M, Married Life, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Stella has an idea about making some changes and Hank does not react favorably





	Speak Low if You Speak Love

They’d been in New York for just over three weeks since Becca’s accident.  After four days in the hospital, the injured girl had been released and was adamant about returning to her own apartment.  Karen had strenuously argued to bring her to Connecticut to recuperate while Hank vigorously lobbied to bring her to the loft.  Stella and Fish remained mostly neutral, pacifying the concerns of both exasperated parents by reminding them that Becca was an adult and therefore the decision was hers to make.  

 

Secretly, Stella had hoped that Becca would capitulate and choose to accept the assistance both her parents so eagerly offered.  It would certainly make things easier. However, she also understood the need for autonomy and self-reliance, something she shared with her stepdaughter in spades.  Deep down, she knew that Becca would heal faster without the added stress of hovering, worried parents with a known tendency to smother their daughter with attention.

 

Officially, Stella was on an extended leave, though she did what she could to audit files remotely and had gotten up in the middle of the night a few times to attend meetings via videoconference.  Once the anxiety surrounding Becca’s hospitalization had worn off, Hank returned to work on his latest novel with renewed vigor. A routine was established where Hank and Stella checked in on Becca during the week, taking her to and from physical therapy every other day, and Karen and Fish came down on Friday nights, leaving on Sunday afternoons after they’d all had brunch at a cafe a short walk from Becca’s apartment.  

 

Spring slid easily into summer and the weather had been remarkably beautiful the entire time.  Stella and Hank had gotten into the habit of walking home from brunch, taking a leisurely stroll across the park from the west side to the east side, sometimes stopping for appetizers or drinks depending on the time of day they made it back to the loft.  

 

The pace of their days was gentle and unhurried, something Stella was not accustomed to, but that she almost felt like she could get used to.  Despite the situation, it was, she thought, oddly pleasant. The tranquility actually spurred her into action about something she’d been lately giving a lot of thought to.

 

They walked hand in hand, another thing Stella had become increasingly comfortable with, to the point where it became almost an unconscious act to reach for him as they entered the gates in front of the Natural History Museum.  Their walks were mostly silent, save for the ambient noise of the park - birds chirping, dogs barking, children screaming, people laughing. Today, the sun played a game of peek-a-boo behind large, white, and puffy clouds. Stella could feel the warmth of it on her back through the thin cotton of her sundress.  It was hotter than it had been and more humid. Spotting an empty bench under the shade of a thick clump of trees, she tugged on Hank’s hand.

 

“Sit?” she asked.

 

“Sure,” he answered.

 

Hank laid his arm out along the back of the bench behind Stella when they sat down.  He tipped his head back and she knew he eyes were closed even if she couldn’t see through his dark glasses.  She put a hand on his thigh and he cupped her shoulder, pulling her close as he leaned towards her.

 

“You’re getting freckled,” Hank mumbled, brushing his lips back and forth over her shoulder.

 

Stella turned her head to the side, but it was hard to see.  She put her arms out and rotated them back and forth a few times.  There was a bit of color there.

 

“Was this what it was like in LA?” she asked.  “Perpetual sun?”

 

“More often than not,” he answered, leaning back again on the bench and turning his head up again.

 

“I think that would be very strange.”

 

“Yeah, well, they don’t call it Hell-A for nothin’.”

 

“And New York?”

 

“Weatherwise?  Colder than a witch’s tit in winter, melt your balls off hot in the summer.  Everything in between is just about damn near perfect.”

 

“You love it here.”

 

Hank shrugged.

 

“There’s something I’ve been giving a lot of thought to,” she said.  “Something I’ve been investigating the possibility of lately, and I want to know what your opinion is.”

 

“Which state has the best weather?”

 

“No.”  

 

A pack of dogs came around the curve of the path towards them, a harried dog walker in tow.  They watched the young man stumble along as he struggled to keep up with the group. Hank grinned in amusement, but waited until the kid had been dragged away to let out a laugh.

 

“Looks like his first day on the job,” he said.  “Poor kid.”

 

“It’s a job I want to talk to you about.”

 

“Thinking of being a dog walker, Sherlock?”

 

“No, but I am thinking about a change in career.”

 

“Oh?”  Hank turned towards her and raised his sunglasses up to rest on his head.  “For real?”

 

“I’ve been made aware of an opportunity that I don’t believe would come my way again if I pass on it.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“The UN has a security council that oversees efforts of reformation of law to war-torn countries to help them rebuild.  They’re looking to put together a committee that would establish a basic set of parameters to follow to assist in transition.”

 

“I don’t know if I understood a word of that, but go on.”

 

“Council members have attended panel discussions I’ve been involved with on international law and my name was floated as a suggested head of this committee.”

 

“That sounds fucking amazing, but could you explain it to me in layman’s terms?”

 

“Essentially, we’d be writing the manual on how to establish law and order in countries that have little to no experience in governing themselves, but who wish to do so.”

 

“And if you’re the head of it, you’d be like the Mayor McCheese of all the countries?”

 

“Ah, no.”  Stella chuckled a little.  “No, nothing like that.”

 

“Wouldn’t you need to be a lawyer or something to do this?”

 

“No, but I’ve a degrees in political science and criminal justice.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“You say ‘of course’ like everyone has a degree in criminal justice and poli-sci.  I thought you had a degree in anthropology.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Triple major?”

 

“It’s easy enough to continue courses and write a few more papers when you’ve accumulated credits.  So many overlap.”

 

“You have more?”

 

Stella shrugged lightly.

 

“How many?” Hank asked.

 

“I haven’t counted.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Economics, world history, ancient civilizations, criminal psychology, sociology, theology, classics.”

 

“Classics?”

 

“Study of ancient Greek and Roman culture.”

 

“Well, I didn’t hear English lit in there, so...I win.”

 

“What would I do with a lit degree?”

 

“The same thing you do with a classics degree?”

 

“You’d be surprised.”

 

“Am I am asshole for not knowing any of this?”

 

“It certainly doesn’t come up in conversation.  Nor do I offer it without cause.”

 

“You’re like the extreme version of an undecided major.  You couldn’t decide so you took them all.”

 

“Not all.  I’m rubbish at the maths.”

 

“Guess settling down and becoming an accountant would be out of the question then?”

 

“Absolutely out of the question.”

 

The sun appeared in full for the next few minutes between a gap in the clouds.  The line of demarcation between sunshine and shadow crossed the top of Stella’s feet, warming her toes until she pulled them back towards the bench and into the shade.

 

“Tell me more about the job,” Hank said.  “Not about what it is, but what it would mean.”

 

“The salary is less than what I’m making now.”

 

“Well, fuck.  There goes my dream of being a kept man.” 

 

“There is a perk.”

 

“What’s the perk?”

 

“I can choose to make my home base from anywhere the UN has offices.”

 

“Can I rule out Switzerland?”

 

“I was thinking New York.”

 

“Here?”

 

“Would you want that?”

 

“Would  _ you _ ?”

 

“I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t.”

 

“Okay.”  Hank paused and his face seemed to be caught between a smile and a frown.  “I’m guessing there’s a catch here.”

 

“There’s always a catch, isn’t there?” she answered, turning her head down with a sigh.

 

“Lay it on me, Sherlock.”

 

“It’s a minimum five year commitment.”

 

“And?”

 

“There is a significant amount of travel required.”

 

“How much are we talkin’?  Days, weeks, months?”

 

“As yet unknown.  I’d be sent where I’m needed and that could be...it could be months at a time.”

 

Hank turned his head away from Stella and started bouncing his knee, shaking the bench along with it until she put her hand on his leg.  He stopped bouncing, but she could feel the tension in his quadricep and she gave him a light squeeze, but that just seemed to make him more tense.

 

“You’re upset,” she stated.  “Why?”

 

“Have you already accepted this job?” he asked, his face still turned away from him.  “Has this all been planned out and you’re just giving me the courtesy of letting me know now?”

 

“No, I haven’t even met with anyone yet.  There’ve been a few emails traded regarding specifics, but technically it hasn’t even been offered and I don’t know who else they might be looking at.”

 

“I don’t want you to take it.”

 

“I don’t need your permission.”

 

“Fine,” he spat, throwing his arm up over her head as he stood.  “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

 

Stella watched Hank walk away and though the urge to go after him was strong, she suppressed it in order to check her own anger.  She hadn’t even made up her mind, was still weighing the pros and cons of it herself, and of course was interested in his opinion, but his explosive reaction to the prospect was surprising and disheartening.  Normally, when faced with such strong opposition, it only served to make her more determined, but she was not free to make her own decisions any longer.

 

This is what had kept her reticent against marriage for most of her life and why she was experiencing a moment of regret now.  Were she single, she wouldn’t have to give much thought to taking this job if she wanted it. In fact, moving to New York wouldn’t even be an idea in her mind if not for Hank.  For the first time in her life, she was happily willing to uproot her entire life for someone else, the way in which he’d done for her by moving to London. It wasn’t lost on her that he’d made sacrifices to be with her, but his livelihood was not dependent on location.  If she passed on this opportunity to relocate, another may not come along.

 

There were some deeper truths in wanting to take this job that she did not get the opportunity to express to Hank, because all she’d gotten to was the facts.  She’d gone for the head and not the heart because she herself led by logic, but Hank was guided by emotion above all else. At times it made it feel like they spoke entirely different languages.

 

Stella walked home slowly, her emotional state in constant flux between anger and sadness.  She had often heard from those that spoke of marriage, was that it was mainly about either compromise or sacrifice.  The reality of it was hitting her hard. She wanted her opinions to be heard and respected, but she was going to have to offer Hank the same courtesy.  And that could mean the issue could go unresolved. If they still could not be on the same page after she fully explained her reasoning to him, then she didn’t know where that would leave them.  The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not take the job unless her husband was okay with it and the fact that she  _ did _ , in a sense, require his permission, was what made her angry.

 

When she got home, she expected to find Hank wallowing in a bottle of whiskey somewhere.  The loft was quiet and he wasn’t in the main room or the bedroom. She checked the guest room and he wasn’t there either, which made her wonder if he hadn’t just stopped at a bar instead of coming home.  She almost forgot about the one other place she could check.

 

It wasn’t until after a few years of even being at the loft that she discovered they had rooftop access.  Not just any rooftop access, private rooftop access from inside the loft. She’d always just assumed that the door that was largely unnoticeable beyond the kitchen was simply a utility closet of sorts and never had cause to open it until one afternoon when she was looking for a mop and instead found a set of stairs.  There’d been nothing up on the roof then except for a rickety chair, a small table, and a gorgeous view of other rooftops and the downtown skyscrapers. Hank had said he hadn’t yet got around to fixing it up and rarely went up there. Since he was now in London, it still hadn’t been done, but there were two chairs up there instead of one.

 

She found him standing at the ledge facing the east side.  It wasn’t quite sunset, but she’d noticed it getting darker on her walk home and now she could see what looked like a storm coming in.  The pretty blue that had brightened the sky earlier in the afternoon had dulled to a slate grey. It was still warm though and the humidity level had started to creep up.

 

There was a whiskey bottle on the little table between the chairs, but it was new and the seal wasn’t even broken.  Stella knew that Hank must’ve heard her approach, but he stayed where he was with his back to her and his arms spread wide, gripping the edge of the brick wall at his hips.  She slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, locking her hands over her wrists to hold tight. It only took a few moments for him to let go of the wall and rest his hands on her arms.

 

“I humbly do beseech of your pardon,” Hank said.  “For too much loving you.”

 

Stella blew out a short breath through her nose.  She didn’t have any degrees in literature, but she’d certainly been exposed to her share of Shakespeare.  “I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me,” she retorted.

 

Hank chuckled.  “I give you Othello and you throw Much Ado About Nothing back at me?”

 

“Seemed fitting.”

 

“I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster.”

 

Stella let go of her wrists to loosen her hold on Hank.  “Look at me,” she said.

 

Hank turned and then leaned against the short wall.  He shifted his feet apart and though she stepped up close, she kept her back arched and her head tipped back to look up at him.

 

“I’m not made to be alone,” he said.  “And I’m sorry I’m so fucking insecure, but I-”

 

“Stop for a moment,” she interrupted, reaching up to place two fingers against his lips.  “Let me tell you the whole of it, and then you may disagree.”

 

“I don’t  _ want _ to disagree, Sherlock.”

 

“My job is not as fulfilling as it used to be for me.  I do still find it worthwhile and I do still enjoy what I do, but my priorities have shifted.  I attribute that to you.”

 

“You mean you blame me.”

 

“No, I credit you.  You’ve made me realize that I could have more and that there are other things I would like to have more of.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Family.  What I’d had before was very fractured and cold.  What I have now with you and with Becca and with Karen and with Fish, it’s warm and lovely and I can’t help but want more from it.”

 

Hank groaned a little and tipped his head back.  “You want more of The Trout?”

 

“I think that you do as well and you’re not willing to admit it.”

 

“There are only so many barbeques I can take.”

 

“This thing with Becca was unsettling.  It was unsettling for you and it was unsettling for me, being so far and utterly incapable of doing anything except get on the next flight out and then endure hours of the unknown.”

 

“I don’t need the reminder.”

 

“Logically I know that even if we were here, it couldn’t have changed things, but being ten minutes away and ten hours away does make a difference.”

 

“It does.  You’re right, it does.  But, Becca is my daughter and you’re my wife and that also makes a difference.  I don’t necessarily want to be away from her, especially if bad shit happens, but I don’t want you to be away from me either because you’re my  _ wife _ .  Maybe a better man would be okay with it, or maybe I’m just a fucking codependent asshole, but I can’t do the weeks apart thing anymore.  You’re asking me to accept the possibility of months or more away from you and I can’t do it.”

 

“I’m not asking you to accept anything, I’m only asking that you listen to why I was interested.”

 

“Are you not taking it?”

 

“I don’t know.  Yes, being apart is a significant drawback, but what if I never find an opportunity like this again?”

 

“Is it the job that’s the opportunity or is it moving to New York?”

 

Stella paused, her lips parting just a little as she sucked in a breath.  “The job is appealing. It sounds challenging and worthwhile. I don’t know that I’d want to take it if it did not come with the benefit of moving.”

 

“So, if I’m understanding this right, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, getting to New York is the goal, not necessarily a change in career.”

 

“That is something else I’ve been giving a lot of thought to.”

 

“You want to retire the deerstalker?”

 

Before Stella could answer, an enormous crack of thunder interrupted the conversation, making them both jump.  The boom was so loud that it set off a string of car alarms below. It must have startled the clouds as well, for it began to rain.  Stella loosened her arms and turned to move away, but Hank pulled her back.

 

“Don’t go yet,” he said.  “It’s just a little rain.”

 

She blinked away a few raindrops that hit her lashes.  “I’ve only been thinking that there’s an expiration date for me in what I do,” she answered.  “I’ve already moved out of the field, and the further up I go, the further away from that which drew me in I get.  I might like to try something different.”

 

“I think if the UN job was the right thing for you, it wouldn’t feel so wrong.  I don’t think you’d have any doubts at all if you really wanted it.”

 

“Maybe you’re right.”

 

“What about teaching?”

 

A drop of rain leaked from Stella’s hairline down her forehead and along the side of her nose.  She reached up to brush it away. She’d toyed with the idea of teaching before, but hadn’t seriously researched the requirements.

 

“I suppose that could be a possibility,” she said.

 

“There’s got to be a fuck-ton of schools up and down the east coast that would give their left nut for someone with your experience on staff.”

 

“That is something to consider.”

 

Hank looked up and closed his eyes wistfully.  The rain speckled his cheeks. “I would really miss the fuck out of that uniform though,” he said.

 

Stella pinched his love handles and when she pulled away, this time he let her go.  They were both getting wet. She had to tiptoe across the rooftop, afraid of her shoes slipping out from under her.  Hank grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and then took Stella’s hand to give her something to hold onto as she stepped down the first few stairs to go back inside.

 

When she reached the doorway, Stella stepped out of her shoes and left a trail of wet footprints across the hardwood floor to the bathroom.  Hank was only seconds behind her and he came in shaking water out of his hair like a dog after a bath. She’d already peeled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and reached back to unzip it the rest of the way.  It was cooler inside the loft than it was outside and exposing her damp skin made her shiver. She leaned closer over the counter and inspected her sunkissed shoulders. Hank was right, there was not only a bloom of freckles across her chest and shoulders, but over the bridge of her nose and along the apples of her cheeks as well.

 

“I hate wet jeans,” Hank said, unbuttoning his fly as Stella turned her eyes to watch him in the mirror.  His t-shirt had already been pulled off and tossed to the floor. “Makes me feel like I pissed myself.”

 

Stella left her bra and panties on and hopped up onto the counter.  Hank grimaced as he tried to shimmy out of his uncooperative pants. God, how she wanted him.  Sometimes it hit her suddenly just how lucky she was that she had him. He was right. Being without him for months at a time would be unbearable.  Not touching him, not being touched by him, just might make her go insane.

 

“Hank,” she said, holding her hand out just a little and stretching her fingers towards him.

 

He cursed under his breath as he finally managed to step out of his pants and then he moved over to stand in front of her, leaning down with his hands pressed to the counter so that they were eye to eye.  She touched his jaw with her fingertips and then traced one brow and the shell of his ear.

 

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you,’” she said.

 

Hank’s lips curled up into a smile.  “Henry V? Are you sure you’re not hiding a lit degree somewhere?”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

“You have witchcraft in your lips,” he murmured as he tilted his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

 

She sighed into his mouth and let him push her head back with his until it bumped the mirror.  Sometimes she was impatient with the slow way he made love to her mouth, but she welcomed it at that moment.  She was glad for the gentle glide of his thick tongue over hers and how it filled her, how it seemed to caress her teeth and the roof of her mouth so that she could hardly breathe.  The lack of oxygen and the increase of her heart rate made the pulse of her desire even stronger. It burned so bright she felt it could ignite and catch fire.

 

She decided that she couldn’t wait for him to lavish attention over every part of her body.  One of his hands had meandered up slowly and began teasing her over her bra, but it just wasn’t enough.  She wasn’t in the mood for a slow slide into bliss after all, she was in the mood to have her hair pulled and her hips slammed back so hard the mirror would crack.  Of course, that wasn’t even possible. The counter was too long and she was too short and she wasn’t entirely sure his back had healed fully from the skiing injury to support a hard and fast fuck against a wall.  The thought of it though...the very thought of it.

 

“Bed,” Stella ordered.  “Now.”

 

Hank pulled her from the counter in a flash and she locked her ankles behind his back.  He stumbled along, nuzzling his face across the top of her breasts so that she had to turn and be the one to guide them to the bedroom, pushing them away from walls and furniture until his knees hit the mattress and she fell back.  She twisted away and crawled up to toss the pillows to the floor, but he turned her hips and dragged her back down to him.

 

“I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap,” he said, yanking her panties down over her left hip.

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she answered, trailing off into a moan as his tongue swirled through her folds.  He had the nerve to laugh and the vibration lifted her knees and made her stomach clench. She arched her neck and looked up, thinking that the headboard was sturdy and solid.  He lifted his head and pushed one of her legs back to pull her panties off and then he dove back down to keep loving her with his tongue. It was good, because he was always good at what he did, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

 

Her eyes rolled back and a grunt of frustration escaped her before she managed to break free and scramble back up the bed.  Hank’s eyes shone like he was drunk off the taste of her and he rose unsteadily up on all fours. Stella was reclined on her elbows, her shoulders pressed to the headboard.  She opened her knees for him, aware of how overripe with desire she was that it dripped steadily from her, and aware that he could see it and smell it on her. He groaned, reaching down to stroke himself over his boxer briefs.

 

Stella inched her way higher up the headboard, which moved her away from Hank.  He stalked forward on hands and knees. When he was close enough and when she was high enough, they were both suddenly on their knees and getting in each other’s way as they both tried to pull his underwear off.  She finally just let him do it and took him in hand instead, eagerly stroking root to tip in anticipation. All she wanted was to get him inside of her as quickly as possible.

 

Outside, there was a low growl of thunder and the rain swelled.  Stella leaned back against the headboard and reached for Hank, lifting her leg over his hip as she pushed up just enough to slide down onto him.  He had one arm around her back and reached down to help guide himself into her. She wrapped her other leg around his waist as he hoisted her up. 

 

“You always feel so fucking good,” Hank groaned.

 

“You too,” she breathed, pulling her hips back so that her low back hit the headboard.

 

The top of the headboard was like a natural shelf for Hank to rest his arms.  They buffered her back from the wall, but it didn’t stop her hips from rattling the frame with every upward stroke he gave her.  Soon, the knocking of wood against brick became a steady rhythm, coupled with the wet slap of damp skin against damp skin. She wanted the whole building to thrum with the force of their fucking, wanted it to be bigger than the storm outside.

 

And then she was there, stretched taut and breathless as her body hung suspended between the climb and the fall.  She felt like sobbing with relief when she went over, heels digging roughly into Hank’s tailbone. Her body shook and muscles quivered and two tears leaked from the corners of both eyes and down the sides of her cheeks.  Hank buried his face against her shoulder and furiously pumped his hips into her as she held on. The effort was almost painful, but he had her gasping and shaking again just before he found his own release.

 

Stella slid her hand through Hank’s hair, damp with sweat and rainwater.  His chest heaved against hers and he blew hot and humid breath against her shoulder.  The musk of sex perfumed the room, so thick she could taste it in the air. She smiled.

 

“God damn, Sherlock,” Hank said.  He dropped his hips and slipped out of her and she unfolded her legs from around him.  She felt weak and rubbery. He took her with him as he flopped back on the bed and she rolled to her side against him.

 

“I’m going to pass on the job,” she said.

 

Hank rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.  He looked down at her and smoothed a few strands of hair off her sweaty cheek.  “If it’s what you wanted, we could make it work.”

 

“Being with you is what I want.  It occurs to me that I am unwilling to compromise on that point.”

 

“That’s good, because so am I.”

 

“It’s lovely to agree on something.”

 

“Mmhm,” Hank hummed.  He traced the downward slope of her upper lip with his thumb and then brought a finger down her nose.  “My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me.”

 

Stella pulled her brows together in thought.  “That’s not Shakespeare.”

 

“No,” he laughed.  “Winston Churchill.”

 

“Oh, darling, please stick to The Bard.”

 

“I might be fresh out of Billy Shakes for the moment, but I might be able to bust out some Keats if I really thought about it.  Just give me a few more minutes for my brain cells to regenerate.”

 

“I don’t need poetry, Watson.”

 

“Wait, wait, I got one.”  Hank rolled over so he was above her, propping himself up on his elbows.  She parted her thighs so he could lay between her legs and he brushed his nose back and forth against hers.  “I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is that not strange?”

 

“Then we are strange together.”

 

“Sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

 

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

 

“Oh my god, Sherlock, you’re giving me shit for Churchill and then you go and quote Love Story?”

 

“That was terrible, I apologize.”

 

“Eh, not gonna lie, it’s still a turn on.”

 

It was difficult to kiss through the laughter that followed, but they managed.

 

The End


End file.
